


HHE 2k16 Fic Grab Bag

by WarpedChyld



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Its accidental though, Kissing, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Tickling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedChyld/pseuds/WarpedChyld
Summary: For @stupidasxce on Tumblr who was my HHE Giftee. :) They couldn't decide what they wanted and I couldn't decide what to give so...have a bit of everything! Hope you like it!





	1. Chapter 1

 

It took Will a few times to notice it.  The first was right after the fall. Hannibal clung to him as the cold seeped into their bones, muttering broken phrases in a language Will later learned was Lithuanian.  He heard the word “Anniba” right before Chiyoh fished them out of the water and then blackness. He woke to them laying in a bunk, doped on painkillers and antibiotics.  Several flashes of lightning preceded thunder loud enough to shake the boat and Hannibal had made a noise. Chiyoh told him it was only a rainstorm and Hannibal had given a slurred laugh, then passed out.

  
As they recovered, Hannibal never again reacted to a storm so Will forgot about it. A few months later, he came into the cabin they were recovering in, stomping his feet to get warmth back in them and said it smelled like snow. Hannibal had paused, minutely, though his expression remained politely questioning, as if waiting for Will to continue.

  
Will had shrugged and said it was going to snow, probably, but not too bad. Hannibal had said he would make sure they had ample supplies and that, was that.  

  
Several light snows fell during the winter months they hid in that cabin. There at night, gone by midday. The first time there was a heavy snow, Will had gone out into it, laughing as taking only two steps wore his still healing body out. He gestured for Hannibal to come but Hannibal had stood in the doorway, looking from the snow, to his feet, to Will and back again several times.

  
Will snorted, bound over and yanked him down into the meter deep snow. The undignified yelp Hannibal gave, the expression on his face as Will dumped handfuls of snow on him was so worth the dirty looks and missed breakfast as Hannibal went upstairs to shower and change instead of cooking. He had stayed in the shower for a long time. Will just figured it was him being his usually prissy self.

  
It wasn’t until they were in Switzerland that Will finally put all the pieces together. Their safe house this time was a luxury chalet, remote enough that would be left alone yet close enough to town to make day trips. They had a dog with Hannibal hinting at a second and third maybe being acquired. The place was weatherproof and had enough supplies and wood that Will joked he felt like a doomsday prepper. Hannibal hadn’t even dignified that with a look.

  
Will woke from a dream, of ice and snow and a little child crying. He moved his hand in front of his face, unable to make it out. Several items on his nightstand crashed to the floor as he sought and found the flashlight kept there.  His breath frosted in the beam and he could hear the howl of wind outside.  Above event that roar he heard a sound, almost like an animal in pain.  He looked down to the side of his bed and saw Ceph curled up and sleeping tight.

  
Another pained whimper, then the sound of Hannibal’s door opening and closing, feet rushing down to the living room.  Will debated for half a second before getting up and making his way cautiously down.  

  
There, he found Hannibal, sweater on inside out, pajama bottoms twisted as he crouched by the fireplace. Around his feet were burned out matches, more rapidly joining them while he fumbled to light them. His pained breathing, louder than the outside wind echoed in the living room, raw and ragged.  It suddenly all made sense to Will.

  
Hannibal listened to weather reports. Hannibal always made sure to keep plenty of wood, and food and blankets and candles around. Hannibal never set foot outside in the snow unless he was well bundled up.

  
Will had taken it all in stride, chalking it up to Hannibal being fussy and well prepared.

  
A muttered curse in Lithuanian, five more matches on the ground and Will knelt behind Hannibal, wrapped his arms around him. It shocked him how cold Hannibal was, how tense he was. It was like hugging a piece of metal.  Will gave soft murmurs, nonsense word he used to lure dogs near as he rubbed Hannibal’s back, his arms. He was finally able to take the matches from Hannibal’s trembling hands, long practice letting Will get a fire built in a few minutes.

  
Once the firelight filled the room, Will felt Hannibal sag against him, giving a great, shuddering sigh that wracked his entire body. Will tried to pull away to grab a blanket but Hannibal latched onto him like a vise, making that pained sound again that cut through Will like a knife.

  
“I’m sorry. I’m here. It’s ok. It’s okay Hannibal. I’m not leaving. You’re not alone.” Over and over like a mantra as he built the fire up, glad they had so much wood stacked close.

  
Will was sweating by the time he felt Hannibal start to warm up and gradually loosen his hold. He managed to get loose just long enough to grab one of the blankets off the couch and wrap it around them both. Will moved them as close as was safe to the fire and added a few more logs. Strong arms went around him, Hannibal’s stubble marking a path across Will’s shoulder as his chin came to rest at Will’s neck. Pressed this close, Will could feel the staccato rhythm of Hannibal’s heart, feel the short, rapid exhalations against his skin.

“I didn’t know. I should have known. I’m sorry Hannibal. I’m so sorry.” Will murmured into his hair.

He felt Hannibal nod against him and pretended he didn’t feel the wet drops that fell on his neck. Pretended he didn’t now understand the stuttered Lithuanian. _Sorry. I’m sorry. Mischa. I’m sorry._

Will didn't pretend to hold him tight enough to bruise. Didn't pretend to press gentle kisses to the top of his head. Didn't pretend just how much Hannibal meant to him.

As the storm outside grew louder, more fierce and freezing, inside, a bright fire filled the room with light. Hands calloused from years spent handling dogs, boat parts and manual labor were running over Hannibal as carefully and tenderly as one would handle a treasured object.

  
Inside Hannibal, the eternal winter that had gripped him finally loosened its hold, thawed by soft words whispered in Cajun French that promised Hannibal would never be alone again. That promised true acceptance of who and what Hannibal was.

Outside, a storm raged.

Inside, Hannibal slept, warm, safe. Happy.


	2. The Spot

Hannibal was always touching him regardless of time or place. After sex, he was worse. Will had learned to go with it. Not that it was so difficult feeling the worshipful touches and soft kisses pressed to his body. He relaxed into them, basking in the soft lips kissing down his body, floating in post coital bliss.

That was when Hannibal found it. 

Left side, groin, 3/8th of an inch away from where his pubic hairline started.

The Spot.

No one but his dad and first girlfriend had ever known of The Spot. 

Will was ticklish, but not overly so. A small squirm, maybe a snort, would be all the reaction he would usually give to being tickled. Well that and the instinctive urge to GET AWAY FROM BEING TOUCHED. But not with The Spot. It was the one place that, when touched, even lightly, reduced Will to a helpless pile of giggles. Will had never told a soul for that exact reason but of course Hannibal I-have-to-touch-you-everywhere-to-make-sure-you-are-really-here Lecter would find it. 

Will tried not to. He really did. That Damn Spot though. It was his Achilles Heel. He giggled. Will froze and smothered the sound, hoping. But it was in vain.  Hannibal noticed everything and by the way his lips, still pressed to The Spot, curved up, he had definitely noticed and heard.

Will shivered, not entirely in dread, and waited.

Hannibal pulled away, dropped a kiss on his lips and stood up. “What would you like for breakfast, Will?” His eyes gleamed.

Will shivered again, even less in dread this time, and grinned. 

This was going to be a very interesting day.


	3. Eavesdrop  (Hugh/Mads)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron notices something when Mads visits the set of The Path.
> 
> Then he overhears something.

Aaron had been a bit intimidated the first time he worked with Hugh.  He had seen him in Hannibal and other stuff and wondered if he would be the stereotype of the aloof Brit. Aaron was happily proved wrong that first night. The whole cast went and got drinks and got along absolutely famously. Hugh was the most fantastic drunk.

“Yes. Yes he is! That was how he was when we did King Arthur! We all went out and got drunk! I had to carry him back!”

Aaron, and everyone else, nearly fell off their chairs at Mads’ story.  The Dane had shown up unexpectedly that day, having a two day break before he had to fly out to start filming his latest project. Mads had decided to come to visit his friend and meet the cast. 

Everyone had been a bit intimidated by Mads at first. They’d watched some of Hannibal and most of them had seen one or two of his other works. Like with Hugh though, the first meeting dispelled all fears. Mads was amazing. Funny and warm and affectionate. And he had the best stories about Hugh.

“Oh my god, Mads. You did not have to carry me! You just decided to pick me up because you were just as pissed as I was!”

“Aww you were so wee and fluffy. It was like holding a sleepy kitten. Who reeked of guinness.”

Hugh was so red, Aaron wondered if he was about to have an aneurysm. 

“I was most assuredly NOT “wee”.” Hugh said in his most posh accent as he tried to sit up with as much dignity as only the truly drunk could. 

“But you were fluffy! I’ve seen the pictures!” Michelle said. “Oh god you haven’t aged a day!”

She proceeded to hold up her phone showing Hugh in all his Gallahad clad glory. Aaron grabbed it and nearly fell over laughing. Hugh made an attempt to grab it but Aaron threw it to Emma. She threw it to Paul, who threw it back to Aaron.  He laughed again then threw it to Mads who nearly fell over howling. It turned into a game of hot potato for a few seconds before Hugh gave up and laughed, mock pouting.

“You lot are the absolute worst.”

“Hannibal should turn them to sausages. Then they would really be the wurst!” Mads said, pronouncing wurst with proper German inflection.

Everyone groaned at the horrible pun and Mads preened, absolutely pleased with himself. 

Aaron watched Hugh lean over and push at Mads’ shoulder with a grin. Then have to grab him as Mads nearly toppled over which resulted in a bit of a tug of war between them as they tried to keep the other from falling. Everyone else was off laughing at them but Aaron caught...something. It wasn’t the first time since they had started drinking. It wasn’t even the first time that day.

The way their hands lingered on each other. A small, secretive smile, like they were laughing at a private joke only they knew, or some silent understanding. And now, a look in the eyes. Suffused with so much warmth and...yes, yes it was intimacy, that Aaron almost felt like a voyeur.  

He had told himself it was just the kind of thing friends did after, what was it now? Eleven? Twelve? Years of friendship. Plus they had spent six months together on a horse. Well two. Two horses as Hugh was quick to point out. All the years working on Hannibal with the late night brainstorming sessions. Making time to meet and hang out when they could. 

Aaron told himself that but....but. He thought back to how happy Hugh had been to see Mads when he had first arrived. How giddy Mads had been. The little touches they gave each other. The looks. That look. That look in their eyes just now. He could have sworn they had been about to kiss. Even now he could see Hugh biting his bottom lip, making it even more red and plump. And why the hell did he think that? Well because...Hugh DID have red and plump lips. And Mads definitely noticed if the way his eyes dropped down and grew a little heated was any indication.

Had anyone else noticed? A quick glance around showed everyone else still laughing and drinking and passing the phone around. It came back to Aaron and yeah, he’s drunk because the picture on it makes him almost snort beer. Damn that Gallahad costume WAS hysterical. 

“Hugh...man.  You were not wee and fluffy.”

“See?” Hugh crowed as he punched Mads lightly.

“You ARE still wee and fluffy.”

“HAH!” It was Mads’ turn to crow and everyone went off again.

Aaron joined in and reached over, running his hand over Hugh’s shorn head. “Well...you WILl be fluffy in a couple weeks.”

Mads dragged a freshly pouting Hugh to him and pressed his face against Hugh’s shoulder. Mads choked and wheezed with laughter and Hugh rolled his eyes with a huge, put upon sigh before patting his head. His smile was absolute affection and warmth. Aaron had to have been imagining it all earlier. He was drunk. They were drunk. Everyone was drunk. And it was late. 

That seemed to be the general consensus as everyone made their goodnights and headed back to their trailers. Stumbled rather. Aaron sat around a little while longer until he was sure he could walk without tripping. He still moved carefully but was pleased that he never once almost fell and could easily navigate between the trailers. It was as he passed by Hugh’s trailer that hee heard it. A sound. A moan actually. And not the kind that came from too much alcohol.

This was the moan that came from too much pleasure. 

Aaron froze and stared and couldn’t help it. He leaned closer, wanting to know if he had imagined it. It came again, followed by gentle shushing.

“Don’t...don’t tell me to shush while...oh fuck Mads...while you’re doing THAT to me.” 

Aaron knew he definitely didn’t imagine that. Nor the second moan that he now knew came from Hugh. Huh, guy sounded really nice when he moaned his alcohol addled mind supplied. Aaaaand he was just going to pretend he never thought that. He still didn’t move away, looking at the trailer in mute fascination.

“Lille dreng, I will tell you to shush if you need to be shushed.” And that was definitely Mads and he was definitely doing something that made Hugh gasp. He didn’t moan though.

“Yes...keep...that...fuck...right there.” Hugh’s voice was lower, Aaron only able to hear it because he was so close and listening. 

“Here? Is this where you need my fingers? Have you missed them so much?”

“Yessss! God...yes...please...you...oh god you bastard!” He sounded desperate, on edge and Aaron winced in sympathy. Then winced as he realized his was listening to his friend and coworker obviously getting finger fucked by his long time best friend and apparently lover. He still didn’t leave.

“Was that all you missed? Just my fingers?”

“NO.” Hugh gasped, still quiet. “I missed your cock too.” 

Aaron was impressed; desperate and begging and still able to be a sassy little shit. Props to him.

Mads made a sound between a laugh and a groan and then did something that had Hugh give an aborted cry.

“Ssh. Ssh, lille dreng. So terrible to me. Only using me for my cock.” Whatever he did had Hugh sob, the sound quickly muffled by what Aaron figured was either a hand or pillow. 

Oh, it was a mouth. That was definitely a mouth, judging by the noises he could now hear. Several minutes passed with muffled sobs and moans from both of them. Aaron could hear the soft, rhythmic creaking that could only mean one thing.

“You...I missed you...” He heard Hugh say as they broke apart, presumably for air. “All of it. You. Missed you. Mads...Mads  _ please! _ ”

The creaking increased, the moans, once more muffled by kisses growing faster, more desperate. Aaron wasn’t sure how long it lasted. Minutes? Hours? He was mesmerized, fascinated. Maybe a little turned on. He wasn’t sure. There wasn’t much time to ponder it as he heard the creaking stop at the same time he heard simultaneous gasps. A soft grunt, followed by heavy breathing followed and then, then it struck Aaron.

He had just listened to Hugh and Mads. 

He had just listened to Hugh and Mads have sex. 

He had just listened to Hugh and Mads have sex and...he was happy.

Not that he got to listen. Happy that they were happy. 

Also embarrassed because fuck, he had just listened to his friends have sex. He shook his head and stumbled off to his trailer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lille dreng = little boy


End file.
